Didn't write yesterday on Day 14.... couldn't. Two weeks since my love left this life, his life, our life. I'm not sure how two weeks has gone by as it seems I have been living this existence for much longer but also as if it is all new. Everyday is new really. There is no normal, no set routine, no salvation in the mundane. I expected that to be honest. Heard so many times and have said myself, "getting back into a routine will be good." Lie, lie, lie.
I find my brain is mush. Like pregnancy brain quadrupled. This is a hard thing to take as I'm quite the perfectionist. Not a personality trait I'm particularly proud of either. I'm learning that sometimes just doing something is good enough. Being a widow, you get a lot of latitude. Interesting and I know Robert would tell me to milk it. I would tease him all the time about using his accent to his benefit and that if I was him, I'd do it too. Seriously, you just have to hear him say darling one time. Complete puddle on the floor. Ironically, I've adopted a slight English accent. At Christmas, I was at Macy's buying a new suitcase for Robert. The salesman caught wind of my "quasi accent" and asked if I was from England. I considered my answer, albeit briefly, and responded yes. All I can say is that I was in that 15 minutes, the most charming fake British woman you would ever hope to meet. I walked out with the suitcase at a 60% discount. I'd like to say Robert was shocked by my actions, but he chose instead to take the piss out of me. Yes, he uses the word piss. Making me smile thinking about this.
The continual chores and tasks associated with settling an estate continues. Been to see the estate attorney again, the funeral home, gathering massive amounts of paperwork, waiting and wondering when this will all wrap up. I'm told 4 months is a good gauge. I'm also told this is when the true silence hits and the reality sets in yet again. For then there is time to grieve. Logically it makes sense, but I feel so fragile that I can't bear the thought.
Addy had a meltdown on Monday night. The day was over, she was showered and we were snuggling on the sofa. There was this soft sob and then a guttural moan and howl that came from my baby. All I could think when holding her and sobbing is this is just too damn hard. I'm barely keeping it together and I cannot cope with this. I don't know how to make it ok for her, or Sam or Steph. I don't know how to tell them to survive this. My words seems barren, no different than the condolences I receive from others. It is amazing really, that one can survive this. Let me say that again.... we can survive it but can we thrive again?
I have typed and deleted so many sentences. I'm tired but I have to be exhausted before I head up to bed. The one room I hate in this house is our bedroom. I walk by Robert's side of the bed to get to my own. I still sleep with this massive 11 x 14 framed picture of Robert and clothes that smell like him. I talk to it, kiss it, cry onto it. Each night I wish it to become real. Willing to give up anything for just one more moment.
I have doubts about Heaven and the goodness of God. I've always struggled with religion as life has not been easy for me. I don't understand how a good and loving God can allow this to happen. How much pain can one person take in their life? How much suffering is enough? Wonder if I will ever find the answer to these questions?
Goodnight my love, sweet dreams...
Always yours,
~A
Although I don’t know you personally, it’s been touching to read your posts every couple of days. You are a beautiful writer. I have no idea what it feels like to lose a spouse, but unfortunately I do know grief, from losing a child. The best way I could explain her death is like one day GOD shook my snow globe. All of a sudden my comfortable world is turned upside down and I can’t make heads or tails out of much because there is fog all around me. What irritated me at times was I felt like my grief reaction was always being judged. When I was around friends/family I felt like everyone handled me with kid gloves, trying not to say or do something to push me over the edge. There was a long period where I felt not to many people were being real with me. Then when I would go out I would get the “sad look” the “oh her baby passed away” look. Hated that look! People mean well- they do, but for some reason I still wanted to walk up and smack that flipping look right off their face. Then there are those people that want to FIX, oh those people exhausted me…they would buy books, talk about the stages of grief, suggest meds, family & individual grief counseling. Again they mean well - yet I wanted to shout at them… “Hey I’m just trying to get my barring, give me a freakin minute please!”…and that was after the thought of I would like to reach out and touch them & not in a warm fuzzy type of way. There are no steps or stages to this hell on earth; everyone goes through a difficult loss differently because everyone’s situation is different. I like you had kids that I had to get up out of bed for everyday so I did a lot of crying alone, esp. in the shower at night. I remember driving down the highway one day just tears running down my face with sunglasses on and trying to sing along to the radio so my children in the back seat would not have any idea that I was falling apart in the front seat. Grieving takes a bit longer when you have a family that you have to accommodate. The grief gets interrupted by life which is sometimes good and sometimes bad. I wish I could tell you that everyday it will hurt a little less, I can’t. What I can tell you is that some day’s it will hurt less and some day’s it will hurt worse then the first day (if you even thought that was possible). Those days were usually moments when my kids would bring up how the loss affected them or would cry and become upset about their sister. Nothing is worse then seeing your children grieve and I would scream inside my head so loud (all the while trying to comfort them) that they did not deserve to experience loss at such a young age, that they did not deserve to be the kids whose sister died, they did not deserve any of this mess we are all in now, none of us did! I think this journal/blog is a wonderful outlet for grief and will allow you someday to reflect back on each day/step, I promise you. Someday you will re-read a page and think, I don’t even remember that day as the grief causes everything to be jumbled around. There is voice in your head that tells you what you need. Some days I needed to stay out of the house and keep busy, other day’s I needed to sit and watch mindless TV, and some moments I needed to go outside (privately) and scream into the dark. Do what you need to do, what ever helps. There is no method to this madness. I admire your strength to put this all out there. Give yourself all kinds of breaks and don’t be hard on yourself at all.
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